


But If You Try Sometimes, You Get What You Need

by Need_To_Comment_Rising



Series: Sherlock Rejection 'Verse [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aromantic Sherlock Holmes, Bisexual John Watson, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Gen, Mary Morstan Lives, Season 4 what season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Need_To_Comment_Rising/pseuds/Need_To_Comment_Rising
Summary: A ten year-old Rosie and her parents come to 221B Baker Street for an after-school visit. Pure unadulterated family fluff.Companion piece to"You Can't Always Get What You Want (but if you try sometimes you get what you need)", but it can be read on its own.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, background Mary Morstan/John Watson
Series: Sherlock Rejection 'Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771303
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	But If You Try Sometimes, You Get What You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LucyLucy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyLucy/gifts).



> **Disclaimer** : When I say "you get what you need" I'm referring to Sherlock, not John. I'm in no way shape or form implying that what John, a bisexual man, "needs", is to find a woman, get married and have kids. On the other hand, a bisexual man marrying a woman is exactly as valid as a bisexual man marrying another man. 
> 
> This is thought as a companion piece to _"You Can't Always Get What You Want (but if you try sometimes you get what you need)"_. You can read it on its own, but the pure fluff this consists of will probably feel more deserved if you read the very angsty first part. The only thing you "need" to know is that Sherlock is Aromantic, and somewhere in between 2x02 and 2x03 of the series John asked him out and he said no.
> 
> For LucyLucy, because their comments are what gave me the idea and the drive to write this. Thank you so much for your enthusiasm!
> 
> English is not my first language, so if you see something that sounds off, don't hesitate to tell me!

"Uncle Sherlock, Uncle Sherlock!!" a child’s voice jerked the detective from his Mind Palace and brought him back to Baker Street. He had been going through the evidence from the case Lestrade had dropped off two hours prior; sadly it wasn’t anywhere near Moriarty levels of interesting, but it was easily a six or a seven. But now it would have to wait: some things took preference over the Work, and the main one was bounding up the stairs right that moment.

The door of 221B Baker Street opened with a bang, and a little girl of around ten barged in. She was dressed in a school uniform, and sported the brightest smile in existence. "Uncle Sherlock!" she cried, scanning the room until she spotted him on the couch, and skidding to a halt before him. "I have big news! Come on, deduce them!"

The consulting detective smiled and prepared to indulge his goddaughter. This was a game Rosie and him had been playing for years, since she was old enough to understand it. Instead of telling him about her day, the girl would just wait, and let him go through deductions until he got to an information she wanted to talk about.

"Well hello to you too, Rosie. Let’s see, then… Breakfast was uneventful. Your dad was too tired from yesterday’s chase, so he forwent the eggs – sorry about that, I suppose- and you had toast and cereal. There have been no particular traffic incidents in central London that you could have been involved in. You’ve come here directly from school, so it can’t be something that happened after class. It has to be education-related, then. Judging by the dirt on your shoes and trousers, and the traces of grass around your bum, you spent recess playing football on the school yard, and got tackled by a person around five centimeters shorter than you. But that is not anything new, at least not new enough that you would consider it worth all this much enthusiasm. What else... What day is it? Tuesday, right?" The small girl nodded eagerly. Sherlock bit back a laugh: he didn’t need to be a professional detective to follow the obvious clues she was giving him. She was all but telegraphing her emotions with 'hot' or 'cold' neon signs. He feigned thinking for a bit and went for the kill, smirking as the kid grew more and more impatient the more he approached his target. "Hmm, what subjects do you have on Tuesdays? You start with History, Middle Ages probably, considering the time of year, the national curriculum for your age and the amount of times you’ve asked me about sword-inflicted damage in the last week. But that’s not it. What else, what else… Oh, you have Biology right after recess. Your teacher doesn’t like doing heavy content on that hour, because she considers that you are too dissipated from playing around… Oh, I think I’ve got it." He acted as if he had just connected the dots, and smiled when the child started rummaging in her backpack before he could even finish his sentence. "You’ve gotten your project back, isn’t it? What was the result?"

Rosie dug even further down, and after a bit she got out a colorful poster titled ' _On the effects of acids on flesh_ '. It was a term-long experimentation project, and Sherlock had enthusiastically helped the ten-year old choose the subject, prepare the theoretical framework and conduct the necessary tests. John had vetoed the idea of doing the experiments of real human flesh, though, in one of his bouts of pigheadedness, saying that it wasn’t okay for children to be around dead bodies. The detective scoffed internally: Molly could have provided the necessary samples, and the results would have been a lot more conclusive. And it wasn’t as if his goddaughter wasn’t exposed to gory facts on a daily basis. But in the end, the cow’s liver had done the job as a substitute.

On the right up corner of the poster, right next to the rainbow-colored glittery letters of the title, there was an A etched in red ink. Judging by the width of the stroke in that letter, the teacher had been disturbed _(boring)_ but impressed by the quality of the work, and decided that the second overruled the first. Good: at least she wasn’t as narrow-minded as the one from last year, who had tried to call Social Services on John and Mary. As if it would be possible to make a move against Mycroft’s godniece. Preposterous.

"Congratulations, you got an A in a 6th grade Science project" came John’s voice from the door, sounding amused. Sherlock looked up to see him leaning on the doorway, an arm around Mary, looking tired. Long shift at the clinic: coupled with yesterday’s chase, it had obviously taken its toll on the other man. They were getting old. When they first started living together, they could do this twice a day and then go to Angelo’s for dinner; now, even _he_ was taking naps in the middle of cases when they took too long. Mary, on the other hand, looked as fresh as ever: night shift, left Rosie with the neighbors so John could help with the case, had slept all morning before coming here.

"Of course. It was good work, it would have been an outrage to give it any less than that." he scoffed, sharing a conspiratorial glance with the child in front of him. "Well done, Rosie. I’m proud of you." She preened at the compliment, beamed once again and plopped next to him on the couch, looking curiously at the photos strewn over the coffee table. "What are all of these, Uncle Sherlock? Is it for a new case? Can you tell me about it?"

"Of course, of course. Look here." The dark-haired man took the first couple of pictures, that featured a wide range of wooden cases, all sporting the same weird symbol on it. "You see that drawing, with the snake and the axe? That's the distinctive sign from a terrorist Basque group, but they've been inactive for almost a decade and they officially dissolved two years ago. And now we've found it on three different, apparently unrelated, crime scenes. It is very uncharacteristic of them, both by location -they've never come this far North- and in _modus operandi_. The police hasn't found anything interesting for now, but they're blind anyway, s we don't put too much faith in their opinions." Sherlock turned to the door, beckoning the couple forward. "Mary, come take a look. Maybe your contacts with underground groups and weapon dealers could be of use in this one..."

And as he stayed here, passionately talking about the Work he loved so much, his goddaughter's head on his shoulder, Mary perched on the arm of the couch firing ideas, John curled on the armchair opposite watching it all with a fond smile on his face and Ms. Hudson popping up to ask if anyone wanted scones, he felt that this was all he ever needed. Maybe in another reality he had taken his friend's offer; maybe somewhere there was a world where he did do romantic relationships and John and him were happily dating; but in this one, this was everything he could ever want. No Valentine's Day, no weddings, no vows, no anniversaries; just a good friend, a family who loved him on his own terms, and the knowledge that they'd be there for each other, no matter what Fate -or the criminal net of London- tried to throw their way.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it and you don't need a shot of insulin now to compensate!
> 
> Kudos make me feel really appreciated (and appreciative), and comments make me as happy as a good case and a found family make Sherlock.


End file.
